


Genna VS Camelot

by OneSmartChicken



Series: Original Stuff [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Comedy, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSmartChicken/pseuds/OneSmartChicken
Summary: Just my oc randomly getting sent back in time sorta.
Series: Original Stuff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694320
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Genna VS Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely for my own amusement, posted here so i can share it with friends because i find it hilarios.

You know what they say. Okay maybe you don't know, but I know what they say, and that's the important part.

I'm not sure how relevant it is to my current predicament, but still. I definitely know the things they say. All the incredibly vague, unhelpful, often contradictory things. Things like "time travel? Maybe not" and "time travel? If you can, sure!" and "time travel? You mean, paradox?" Y'know. All helpful like. My current advice is more along "opt out." It's just confusing, is the thing. Just trying to get the tenses right is weird.

Whatever, probably not important, since the fact of the matter is: I have traveled in time. Let's not ponder the how of it, and the why can wait. How about we ponder the age old question of whether or not King Arthur was an actual factual person. Cause I tend to lean towards no, and yet here my dumb ass is, in a big shiny-ish castle calling itself Camelot.

Chances of this all being a hallucination? Lower than you might think, but not negligible. I live a weird life.

Until proven otherwise, I would err on the side of real, since I'd rather talk to my hallucination than get eaten by a dragon or burned at the stake or whatever murder was in vogue these days. I'd never had such a good reason to regret not paying more attention in history class. Although I'm not convinced they ever talked about this sort of thing. All I remember from history is Nazis, lies about the pilgrims, Nazis, lies about other countries, and oh yeah, Nazis.

Recap for the audience: I've been here, somehow, for about three hours, assuming the sun follows normal earth rules. I woke up in someone's hay loft, fell out of it because it was in no way meant to house a six foot tall 22nd century soldier, and stole some poor man's clothes because I didn't think medieval England would dig business casual. I met a nice brown woman, which was exciting since I had a brief panic where I couldn't figure out when white and brown people started mingling, and also exciting because I understood the things she said. I may also have said some ill advised things ("Hey, you're not white!" and "So what's with the castle?") and scared her away but I managed to talk to others in a reasonable fashion, learning this was Camelot and...not much else.

Congrats. You're caught up.

"Morning, good sir," a cheerful voice greeted, accompanied by a large, broad man and his irritable looking mule. I'm trying not to question the lack of language barrier too much.

"Morning," I said. Friendly people are less likely to get lynched. He beamed at me. It seemed unwarranted. I also wasn't questioning how many people had called me sir. If whatever was allowing me to communicate also made me look like a man, calling attention to it would definitely not help.

"Are you the stablehand then?" he asked, still all smiles and charm.

"I'm afraid not," I said. Also not a new mistake, since I was dressed in clothes from a stable, standing outside another stable. "Henry's just inside though, if you want me to holler for him." Turned out they didn't mind loitering in the dark ages, so long as you made yourself slightly more useful than you were a nuisance.

"No that's alright, I'm just passing by really," he said. And up my hackles went. If he wasn't in need of a stablehand, why was he pestering me? Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a pretty intimidating sort, and even more so here, where I've got a solid half a foot at least on pretty much everyone, although with this guy it was more like a quarter foot. No one had interrupted my people watching since I stopped actively looking friendly. Who was this guy then?

"I'm sorry," I fell back on the tried and true method, "I didn't catch your name." By the glint in his eye he knew I was fishing, but he just smiled again.

"Pardon me," he said gamely. "I'm Merlin."

Ah. Fuck. I rubbed at my temples and thought about Eleanor. Eleanor is the mother of my best friend's wife. Eleanor is also the retired Hellion Witch, who infamously haunted oh, say, most of the now-UK for about 200 years before she immigrated to the US and decided to act like an old lady. She was at least 300 and one of her most used curses was "Merlin's red dagger."

No, I don't know why the theoretically most powerful wizard ever needed a dagger. I do know that it went by like fifteen other names however, and most of them had to do with the slaying of some Great or another, including a dragon, a true Giant, and a nameless demigod. Unstated are whether it earned all those names by Merlin's hand but Eleanor had a habit of implying that yes, absolutely, and those were just the things we heard about. 

I moved "Eleanor is fucking with me" a little higher on my list of possible reasons I had traveled in both time and space without so much as a by your leave or a weird spaceman in a fez. 

EXTRA:   
I just really like this imagery even though it's totally ridiculous

  
Three days closed inside didn't sound like much. By modern standards it wasn't; we had all sorts of fun things to do inside. But crowded into a castle with a bunch of smelly people, without plumbing or electricity or even a good book, was a hell of our own making. 

I sighed for what had to be the 800th time in the past four minutes. I was tired of this. My nose was going flat, which was great for not smelling the unwashed masses but made me feel like I had cotton shoved up my nostrils. I had reached a level of boredom that I hadn't had to deal with since I left the Army. I didn't even want sex, too turned off by how gross everyone was, and there was nothing else to do. 

Okay sex probably wasn't on the table anyway, not unless I found a prostitute I guess, prostitutes don't care about your sexuality in any era. The fact I didn't even want it was frustrating anyway. 

And none of my new acquaintances were anywhere to be found. 

I thunked my head against the wall I'd been crouched against for the better part of the last three days. This sucked. 

"Merlin oh Merlin," I muttered, thinking about cursing his name or something. 

"Yes Genna?" Merlin asked from about four inches away from me and I about jumped outta my flesh, stopping my reflexive jerk a couple centimeters away from punching Merlin in the face. Stupid fucking desensitized olfactory senses, stupid fucking crowd, stupid fucking siege. 

"Holy shit dude, I'm so done with this," I told him, standing up. I had to give him a minute to puzzle through whatever the translator made of 'dude' before he looked up, still crouched down, to frown at me. 

"Done with what?" he asked.

"This siege," I clarified, reining in my annoyance with a mental reminder of the whole 'merlin's red dagger' thing. "Take me up onto the walls, wizard boy, I have some thoughts." Actually I had one thought but like, he didn't need to know about the chant of "letmeout" pulsing through my skull. 

"Hmm," Merlin said with absolutely no respect for how close I was to killing every single person within a three mile radius. My hands actually started to rise, fully prepared to strangle him. "Well, if you promise to stick close to me and not harass the guards, I don't see how it could hurt. Come on then."

"Of course," I agreed and did not promise anything at all. I'm smart like that. He led the way to a set of stairs tucked away awkwardly, taking me past the guards keeping the riffraff off the wall. The men gave me odd looks, but I was a dark skinned woman wearing pants so odd looks were literally all I'd been getting. 

"Afternoon," Merlin said, nodding politely to a guy who looked to be in charge. "Just letting my friend get a little fresh air." I nodded to him too, to make him think I was a nice well behaved person who didn't want any trouble, even though at this point literally all I wanted was trouble. 

Merlin continued on down the wall, as I looked out over what had previously been a lovely field. The enemy army had made it their own, trenches and all. They weren't as big a force as I'd been picturing though, maybe 200 strong, with another 50 cavalry. Not really an army at all, just enough to keep the townsfolk inside.

It was a gamble. They came while the Camelot army was out, and if they made it inside they could probably keep it or pillage and get out with a fortune. But if they didn't leave before the army returned, they'd be slaughtered, even as tired as the returning forces would likely be.

I had enough experience to understand why Merlin and the guard weren't more stressed about this situation; the enemy was a ragtag bunch, more like ambitious bandits than an actual invading force. They were underprepared for a long term siege, and I seemed to recall Merlin saying their army would be back within the week. Meanwhile the castle had enough provisions to keep everyone inside for a month. 

I, however, had no intention of staying in here a week, let alone a month. 

Merlin stopped over the gate the invaders had focused their assault on. He looked out past them, into the forest and beyond. Not paying any particular attention to me. Nice. 

I'm a quick little weasel when I want to be. I was over the wall before anyone could get out so much as a "hey," and used the handholds in the stone to sorta slide/scramble about a third of the way down the wall. With all my might, I kicked off from the wall with a shouted, "YEET!" raising my chest up and bracing my legs for a landing that would shatter the bones of a normal human. 

A cloud of dust rose from my feet, swirling up around my crouched form as I took a moment to catch my bearings. I could hear Merlin yelling from above, and ignored him in favor of grinning at the shocked rabble before me. 

"Hey fuckos," I said cheerfully, then called out in my best wrestler announcer voice, "Let's get ready to ruuumbllle!" When Trish isn't around it falls on me to make the shitty dad jokes. 

I shifted in a quake of snapping bones and fleshy awfulness I had been reliably informed was "incredibly gross," another mark of my being a t'rivara throwback. Just call me big and gross. 

Most of the rabble were still struggling to deal with my entrance. As they took in my shift, most of them didn't manage to keep hold of whatever was in their hands; some couldn't even keep their footing. 

I took a deep breath, billowing out my lungs, and made use of the complex vocal system of the t'rivara for a layered roar, like four different huge animals letting out their war cries at once. Horses screamed, men shouted, dogs began to bark and cattle lowed in distress. 

And as I charged forward, my prey fled, screaming about monsters and dragons. 

I managed to plow through a few dozen or so of their ranks before the gate opened, the drawbridge creakily lowered, and the skeleton crew style guards came charging out. If it had been a game, I would have been the one carrying all of them.

Merlin, being a smug bastard and all, leaned up against the wall to watch us. Just to be cute, I picked up one of the bandits and carried it over to him, dropping it at his feet. 

"Oh ew," he commented, ignoring my snort. "Are these your leftovers?" I made a moderate attempt to shove him into the moat, wizard wrath be damned.


End file.
